


Chasing Pirates

by brilliantlyordinary, OrdinaryThings



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, And also jokes that only the writer laughs with, And land as hell, And this is in english yeah!, But yeah sometimes, For the sweetest person I know, Happy Ending, Human and Mermaid AU, M/M, Mermaid Aziraphale, Not like little Mermaid, Ocean AU, Pirate Crowley, Take sea as heaven, at least metaphorically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-23 00:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20331088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliantlyordinary/pseuds/brilliantlyordinary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrdinaryThings/pseuds/OrdinaryThings
Summary: Under the planks of a pier where the most boring pirates stories were told, there was once something so valuable that few had the opportunity to know. Crowley, among them, believed that it was worth more than all the gold in the world.





	1. Crumbs For The Burglar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Housset](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Housset).

They were difficult times. 

And it wasn’t as though it had always been this way, or always would be this way, but when times were hard, they toughened up, just as they did when it came to the rocks the crew were forced to use as pillows.

Despite being the only one doubled in height by the rest of the crew, Beezlebub commanded the lot of them, the “useless bunch,” that they were, according to them, those that groaned in protest when awakened by their authoritative and scandalous shouts every morning. Some of the crew wondered what the captain had between their legs, but they all remembered that the last time someone had dared to ask, the crew had gone abruptly from 21 members to 20. Thus the mystery of the captain’s gender was something the crew was happy to accept. 

That day, the sea was calm and the sky was bright and clear before the eyes of the red-haired and bespectacled man who had paused at the rail, looking for something to “fish.” The man was Crowley, better known as The Serpent. One of the best pirates this ship had the privilege of carrying. Though from another perspective, the ship hadn’t seen good food in quite awhile, and it's easy to imagine how well the art of thievery fit Crowley. 

The title of Serpent wasn’t given to him for his cunning or anything similar, despite what most of the people who heard it believed. In fact, the reason they called him that was because of the hilarious noises he made when thrown to the floor. 

Regardless, and despite everything, Crowley was one of the most highly respected members of the crew, and hoped that one day, perhaps, he might rise in the ranks to become the  _ most _ respected member. He liked the ocean, it reminded himself that once he was rich he could leave this crew of idiots behind him, but for now he had to settle for always being chosen to search the horizon for ships to capture. 

And he found one, though it yielded not much more than a few stale hunks of bread and a few useless tons of rocks. Some of the crew were enthusiastic; they could finally get their hands on a new pillow, but beyond that, the Atlantic offered them nothing that day. 

They turned again to the west, where they had built a dock for themselves, off the coast of an infertile island that no one visited, or so they believed. Hastur, a well-known crew member, had buried a gold coin a few years ago here, but no tree had grown. Conclusion: barren land. 

“Come on, guys,” Crowley whined with a irrepressible smile, “Tomorrow I’ll find us a boat loaded with salmon and gold.”

“That’s what you said yesterday” Ligur grumbled, disembarking with the rest of the crew, all of them throwing bitter looks towards Crowley, who hadn’t lost his grin, brimming with false hope.

“Yes, but remember, the tomorrow of yesterday is today.”

“Shut up, Crowley,” Beezlebub interrupted.

“Yeah, shut up Crowley,” added another crew member.

“Excuse me,” spoke another, towards the end of the dock. “But they’re right, do shut up.” 

Crowley refused to give in so easily, so he made some irritated noises while he sat himself down with the rest of the crew on the dock. This was the worst part of the day, each member sharing what they had managed to loot for themselves, a pitiful display. Crowley knew this just showed off the remarkable hypocrisy of the crew. Everyone hid their finds, himself included. He was guilty of having hidden away food or money to enjoy alone, and not have to share with the rest of the crew. He was sure Hastur had found something, and he was also sure that he wouldn’t share it. 

He didn’t care, not at all. There was nothing better than an empty stomach for thinking. What the Serpent didn’t know, was that that day, his luck had gone for a dip in the water and had emerged shiny and new, just in time to bless him with a bit of good fortune. 

Barely seated at the far north end of the dock, just centimeters from the water, he realized that tucked between old robes and age-stained cardboard, there was an entire, intact wheel of cheese, perfectly ready to sate his hunger. His brain stopped working for a few minutes, searching through his memories, fruitlessly trying to remember when and how he had stolen this delicious morsel, nothing coming to his red-haired mind but an old sailor’s joke that made him laugh. He glanced at the rest of the crew, sat along the dock, looking for clues or some kind of indication of where this cheese had come from, but there didn’t appear to be anything new or different from a few moments ago. 

He smiled at his cleverness, hiding the cheese as much as he could amongst the old robes and crossing himself, a look of evil joy still clear on his face. 

Just then, he heard a fight breaking out at the other end of the dock, Hastur’s voice quite distinct as he argued about some loot of his that had been stolen. Thankfully, Crowley was out of range of the fight, couldn’t possibly be blamed for any stolen items, despite what the truth may have been.

Crowley got away with his cheese that day, but the whole thing soon started to bother him. Of course he was delighted that things had started to appear seemingly out of nowhere on his side of the dock, and the same things were being lost on the other side: food, money, even jewelry; but his curiosity had been piqued. Was someone in the crew doing it? Surely not. Magic? Must’ve been.

He received his answer not too long later, on a day as calm as all the rest, the sun shining as brightly as ever. The pirates had been called together for a mission, Beezlebub having heard about a fishing boat that would be setting sail that night, giving them the opportunity to carry out the robbery of the year, the crew more than ready for the theft.

Regardless, Crowley decided to stay at the dock, hiding out of sight. He knew the mysterious disappearances had to happen when the crew was gone and it would be years before he got an opportunity as good as this one if he didn’t take advantage tonight. It was easy for Crowley to slip away while the rest of the crew were loading up, and they certainly wouldn’t miss him during the raid, probably wouldn’t notice he was gone the whole time if he was honest. 

The Serpent hid himself behind a tree close by the dock, attentive to every movement of land and sea, heart beating a steady rhythm, patiently waiting for something to happen. Suddenly, an ordinary seagull landed on the dock to dig through the crew’s things until pulling out a gold coin and flying over to tuck it amongst Crowley’s things instead. 

This was the magic? An ordinary seagull? 

Crowley couldn’t understand it, it was impossible that a simple bird would be smart enough to be behind what had been happening, much less with such precision. All told, he had been the only one to benefit from the thievery. 

It wasn’t until he had turned his back to the ocean that he saw something there that almost made him release a shout of surprise and incredulity. A being was using its arms to lift itself from the ocean onto the dock, seating itself on the very end, though sitting might not be the right word, for this creature.

There before his very eyes was… a mermaid. Or, judging by the lack of shells on its chest, a merman.

He crept closer, trying to get a better view of the creature, careful not to make a noise or be seen. His tail was a soft pearl color, iridescent in the light off the sea, throwing rainbows onto the boards of the dock as he shifted. He had coiled blond hair, the curls reminiscent of the shells wrapped through the strands, salmon-tinted, grey, wine-dark, pastel peach. His skin was iridescent and smooth, a sheen like silk clinging to it. 

The strange creature spoke and laughed animatedly with the seagull, awakening an even deeper curiosity in Crowley. The voice wasn’t particularly angelic, but it was sweet against his eardrums.

“Felicia dear, have you done what I asked of you?”

The seagull affirmed with its beak, and Crowley had never been so confused in his life. 

“Oh, excellent!” the merman exclaimed, taking the seagull into his arms. “What do you think his reaction will be today? The cheese was excellent, true, but a gold coin? I’m sure he will be quite excited.”

Crowley still hadn’t quite emerged from the trance of witnessing a supposedly-mythical creature with his own eyes, and he belatedly realized the creature was talking about  _ him _ , specifically. The pirate tried blinking a few times, but the merman stayed solidly where he was perched on the end of the dock, still chatting with the seagull. 

“' _ But Aziraphale’ _ , you’ll say; ‘ _ You can’t approach a creation of the God Under The Sea this way, if someone were to find out you’d be locked up for the rest of eternity _ ’.” The creature commented, looking up at the sky, nearly completely dark, altering his voice to sound like the squawk of a seagull. “I know, but how could I not? He was dying of hunger, his work was going poorly, and it's… well he’s just so fun to watch!”

The bird in his arms clacked its beak in agreement again, and the merman laughed, speaking as amenably as if he were holding a mug of tea in his hands. Crowley inched a bit closer.

“But I shouldn’t,” he continued, finally releasing the seagull. “God wouldn’t like it, I should never have come up. But.. this world.. its people… It’s so beautiful Felicia. I couldn’t help myself.” 

The seagull clacked in agreement a third time. 

“I suppose as long as they don’t realize, there’s no harm done, right?”

Crowley continued to creep closer, too close, foolishly forgetting about the looser rocks around the end of the dock, accidentally knocking some free and causing them to fall down and splash into the water below. They didn’t make a very loud noise, but it was enough to grab the attention of the creature at the other end of the dock. 

The expression on the merman’s face could best be described as horrified, and it seemed that hours of tense silence passed, with all three of them — Crowley, the merman, and the seagull— frozen into place, none of them with any idea what to do next. Crowley finally tried to speak, but at the smallest movement the seagull shrieked and flew off and the merman’s tail flashed as he turned back and dove into the water from whence he had come. 

“No! No, no, no!” Crowley shouted, running towards the end of the dock, unsuccessfully trying to reach the creature, falling to his knees at the edge. “Come back! I didn’t mean to scare you! I have… I have seaweed!”

He received no response. He tried again, shouting down into the sea, but there was still no response from the mysterious merman. He kept on, his shouts increasing in volume and force until he found himself overbalancing at the edge of the dock, pitching down towards the water. 

The next thing he knew, he was on the shore of a small island not far away. 

The merman, Aziraphale, had beached himself on the sand of the island and was shaking Crowley, hitting his chest, trying to get him to wake up. He had swallowed quite a bit of water in his fall, and it clogged in his lungs. He picked up Crowley’s head from the sand, shook it, slapped his cheeks, but nothing was working. He was beginning to lose hope. 

“No, no no no!” He screamed, hoping for some kind of reaction from the still body below him. “Don’t die!” There was no response. 

Between the merman’s hand, the man’s face had begun to pale, and Aziraphale found himself in the middle of one of the worst crises of his very long life. Suddenly, thick streams of water began to slide down his cheeks, something that had never happened to him before. 

Aziraphale, however, was so focused on the color of the man’s skin, he failed to notice the unusual problem his eyes were having. There he stayed, laid himself down on the beach and brought the limp form into his arms, waiting, ever so patient. 

Until finally, Crowley awoke. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was, relatively, inspired by the sweetest girl I have ever met, [Housset](https://twitter.com/Tessuoh1)  
And to who I especially dedicate this fanfic.  
I hope you liked it a lot, baby. And so this goes to any beautiful person who has taken the time to read this story.  
Very soon you'll know about this again.
> 
> Also I send lots of love to [brilliantlyordinary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliantlyordinary/pseuds/brilliantlyordinary), the one who's helping me translating this beautiful work, go and give her some love.
> 
> Kudos, kisses and comments received from each lovely person, would make this writer happy.


	2. Ask for the Sailor

At that moment, Aziraphale’s face stopped being soaked with tears, wetted instead by the huge fountain of water Crowley expelled, clearing his lungs so he could breathe again. The merman couldn’t have been more happy with this, helping the process along by pounding Crowley on the back.

The sun had nearly completely set over the curious scene on the island’s coast; a pirate coughing and shouting nonsense and a merman trying to shake the water out of his boots. 

“What happened?” Aziraphale asked, overjoyed to see the man finally recovering himself.

Crowley, looking like nothing so much as a wet dog, glared at him.

“I slipped.” he answered, removing his jacket to wring the water out of it. He tried to ignore the merman’s questioning looks, finally throwing up his hands in exasperation and exclaiming, “Fine! You want me to say it? I can’t swim! Happy?”

“You what?” asked the merman, even more confused than before.

“Look,” Crowley started, wringing the water out of his shirt as well. “I work  _ on _ the ocean, not  _ in _ it. I only need to know things that matter, if I try to waste my time remembering useless things, I’ll forget something important.”

“And what’s so important that you have to remember, Mr. Sailor?”

“Oh  _ sailor _ ’s not the best term for what I do.” Crowley said suggestively.

“Then what is?”

It was this question that prompted Crowley to realize that perhaps he shouldn’t have said that. He couldn’t explain to this beautiful fish boy that he raided and stole ships. If he did, it would only serve to scare the merman off.

  
  


“I’m a boat merchant. Sometimes, things aren’t done fairly, and I’m the one who tries to restore balance,” he offered. It was the first thing that had come to mind.

“Aren’t done fairly?” The merman asked, flicking his tail.

Crowley shrugged his shoulders and threw himself down onto the sand, inspecting some rocks, until he had selected a smooth black one. He stood and walked barefoot to the treeline of the island. He left Aziraphale’s view for a moment, but the merman could see from afar a strange brightness making its way towards him.

“Life’s not fair,” Crowley announced upon his return, sitting once again beside the merman. He placed his torch in front of them, trying in vain to ignore the way the creature seemed to glow in the light of the fire. He barely managed to stop Aziraphale’s hand before it touched the flame. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He exclaimed, gripping the merman’s wrist harshly; Aziraphale looked at him questioningly. 

“I wanted to touch it.”

“You can’t,” the serpent responded, releasing the being’s wrist and grabbing up the closest leaf, letting it fall into the flame and burn out of existence, an example and a warning. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Aziraphale didn’t respond except to smile, a fascinated look on his face as he continued asking Crowley questions about the incandescent, magical flower which Crowley knew simply as ‘fire.’

“Enough questions, pretty boy,” Crowley interrupted him, “I should be the one asking the questions here.”

Aziraphale leaned to the side, placing his hand in the sand and leaning his head down onto his own shoulder, showing the pirate his smile, made luminescent by the flame before them. Something inside Crowley shifted, but he didn’t know what it was. He cleared his throat and tried to come up with a question, but he had no idea where to start. He fidgeted with his hands and bit his lower lip, trying to think of a suitable thing to ask, but none came to him. 

“Why do you have a fish tail?” he finally settled on, after a long silence. 

The merman let out a shout of laughter, shifting his eyes from Crowley towards the sand, where he had picked up what appeared to be the shell of a mollusk thrown up onto the shore by the rising tide, salty water stretching up the beach towards where the two beings sat upon the sand. 

“A life of work  _ in _ the ocean made it necessary,” Aziraphale finally answered, lifting his chin and smiling in a way that showed his teeth, and Crowley thought that someday, perhaps, he might get tired of seeing that smile, but that day was certainly not today. 

“And what do you  _ do,  _ exactly?”

Aziraphale sighed before starting in on the story of a pirate, a pirate who seemed more and more strange the more Aziraphale watched him. 

When God had created the Earth, She had loved it enough to decide to stay there, but She quickly discovered that the creatures there were taking Her for granted, expecting Her to solve their problems, so she decided to hide herself in the deepest depths she could find: the bottom of the ocean. There She spoke with the most silent creatures, the ones who had survived since the beginning of everything. However, to guarantee the well-being of all her children, on the land as well as in the sea, She created a few creatures in Her image that could help Her in this mission, angels on land and mer-creatures in the sea. 

Aziraphale was one merman of many, created to protect the creatures at the bottom of the sea; those who could not take care of themselves. The love Aziraphale had for all God’s creatures was immense but ambitious too, and he wasn’t content to just feed the barrel-eyed fish with their terrifyingly transparent heads, their appearance doing nothing to indicate the tenderness of their insides.

In order to come to the surface, and walk on the Earth, one needed the permission of God. It was She, and only She, who could give that permission to any merman who asked. Aziraphale was tired of constantly filling out the extensive paperwork necessary for surfacing; it had been centuries and he was still stuck amongst the giant squids, though they were very nice. 

He wanted more, much more.

It was rare for things from the land to descend to the bottom of the ocean, where Aziraphale always found them, bits of strange material and exotic rocks formed part of the collection the merman treasured above all else. With respect to their work, the mermen were always divided into their respective groups, assigned to some specific depth to carry out their efforts, commanded by another merman who acted as their close superior, guaranteeing the efficiency of each triton. Aziraphale’s boss was Gabriel, well-known for his sour, grumpy demeanor. Their group was responsible for the very surface of the sea as well as the very bottom, and they rested during the night-time. 

It had all started at a meeting with the giant squids. Aziraphale was making sure that everything was going according to plan, when something incredibly unusual happened. The floor of the sea was nearly always silent, occasionally interrupted by the chatter of creatures such as the mermen, but this was… different. A constant sound, coming from the stomach of one of the squids, a sound sweet on the ears. 

Gabriel, the only one of his group who had surfaced before, told them that it was something called “music,” an invention of Man, who walked the Earth. Maybe the poor squid had swallowed a music box that had been thrown into the sea, and Gabriel harshly warned everyone not to attempt to remove the item. And no one did, but the experience awakened something in Aziraphale, something more than simple curiosity; a desire to learn everything about the surface. So one night, he decided to escape.

It wasn’t even that difficult to do. Gabriel was easy to fool, and with a little more force than was perhaps necessary, Aziraphale arrived at the surface, sooner than he had anticipated. Colors that he had never seen decorated the sky, which had been almost completely saturated with the dark of night-time. A breeze so different from the habitual motion of the tides pushed through his white blond hair. 

“ _ That was the first time I felt truly alive _ ,” Aziraphale whispered excitedly, and Crowley couldn’t help but smile in response. It was a familiar feeling, the absolute joy one could only find on the open sea. 

Aziraphale explained that after taking his time just enjoying the air, he swam for a few minutes, until he found the island that they were both resting on now. He had approached with caution and had stumbled upon Crowley and all his crew. He carefully swam until he was under the planks of the dock, and could hear them arguing about trivial things. It had been an excellent day, and the crew were eating and laughing amongst themselves contentedly.

“I saw you, with those black circles on your face and your strange red hair and I couldn’t stop looking at you.” Aziraphale explained dejectedly, shooting a look over at the pirate. “I heard, some nights later, that you weren’t doing well, that you hadn’t eaten in a long time, and… I just wanted to help.” 

Crowley didn’t know how to react in the face of such innocence. He wasn’t a man of principles, he never stopped to admire beauty, and where he found it he only managed to spoil it. That’s how it had always been, and that’s how he believed it would continue to be. His mind wandered between those perfect white curls, those blue eyes full of concern for him, and he began to feel something he had never felt before, and it bothered him. It bothered him so much, he had half a mind to take off running. He tried to come up with some way to get himself out of this, and concluded that perhaps the best option would be to take advantage of the situation, rather than flee. He took a slow, deep breath. What could he do?

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize to me, pretty boy,” he responded in his usual slick manner, drawing the attention of the merman. “You’ve really helped the crew a lot. In fact, I stayed behind today just to see the cause of all this good fortune with my own eyes. And you know what? I have an idea for how you can help us even more.” He stood, his still-soaked hat held loosely in his hands. Staggering a bit, he made a strange half turn while he plopped the dripping hat onto his head, standing to face the merman, who laughed at his strange swagger. 

“How?” The creature asked, still smiling.

“My crew doesn’t have a fixed work schedule, we’re more the type to follow the tide and let it guide us to ships to do our business,” the pirate proclaimed. “You could go north, where the boats set sail, and tell me when they’re leaving. That way we can conduct our business more effectively.”

Aziraphale didn’t think too much about it, and agreed readily, touched. Crowley stuck out a hand, the blushing merman copying the gesture. With a little more force than usual, Crowley hauled the triton in by his arms and pulled him farther towards the surf. 

The crew suddenly appeared, noisily approaching in their wooden boat, their successful raid clear in the quantity of booty they had acquired. Aziraphale knew then that it was time to leave.

He let Crowley pull him into the water until he was completely submerged. He offered a final smile to the pirate, who returned the gesture with a wave of his hand. The merman disappeared and Crowley waited a few minutes before celebrating his triumph loudly.

Now he had a triton on his side! The perfect ticket out of this miserable reality. 

He shouted with joy, collecting his boots and making his way back to the dock without much hurry, unaware that he was still being watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I happen to care a lot more than I should about the implications that pressure takes at the bottom of the ocean. I stayed a whole night trying to read how it works, and apparently a big squid's stoomach can work as a really good submarine down there; not sure about the sound tho HAHA.
> 
> In addition, I changed the name of the story because I wasn't really conviced completely about it, but now it will stay like that.
> 
> Kisses, kudos and lots of love are well-recieved for this unexperienced writter!


End file.
